Alfred watched tentatively as Scylla left his side and approached the record player placed atop a table across from him. As she reached for the contents inside her bag, Alfred's eyes widened in disbelief. Inside Scylla's bag was a vinyl record. He can't remember the last time he saw one. He was certain that the Votyan imperials had hunted down and destroyed every record of music and art within their jurisdiction. Although Alfred couldn't lift his jaw up from the shock, the other patrons around him cheered nonchalantly as if they've seen vinyl records countless times before.
After Scylla carefully inserted the record into the record player, Alfred immediately recognized the song from a popular Forentian theatric musical his mom often performed in. As the sound of the piano leisurely springs from note to note and the saxophones follow suit, the live band began to pick up their instruments and play along with the music radiating from the record player. Laughter filled the air as Scylla clumsily danced along with the music, mimicking the same steps and leaps Alfred's mother used to make on stage.
Alfred couldn't tear his eyes away from Scylla. She wasn't a good dancer. In fact, she was horrible. But the genuine joy and passion which emanated from her laughter and clumsy dance didn't fail to light up the whole room. The warm, bright lights, the cheerful expressions, the music... it was almost too overstimulating for Alfred. After hearing the patrons loudly praise his late mother for her bravery, he was certain he was only among comrades here. He felt like the scene unfolding in front of him couldn't possibly be real and his heart felt painfully warm. As the other patrons drunkenly locked arms and danced together, Scylla approached Alfred and offered an open hand.
"Aren't you gonna dance, Alfie?"
Alfred looked up at her and gulped down the saliva pooling in his mouth before taking her hand. He spent that night dancing with Scylla and the others. Much to their surprise, Alfred was very good at dancing, being able to bend his body further than the others. This was not new to Alfred. He's always known he was flexible and often practiced dancing with his mother in his free time when he was younger. However, he never got to show his dancing skills to anyone outside of his immediate family. At first, the nervousness ate away at him, but the constant praise and cheers eventually lifted that mental barrier.
He couldn't remember the last time he felt so carefree and happy.
Charles watched over both Alfred and Scylla from a distance as the night progressed. A fond smile was plastered on his face as he watched Alfred teach Scylla how to dance and wholeheartedly conversed with her about her vinyl collection and different types of music. Charles felt relieved that Alfred could finally relax if only for a moment. He always felt like Alfred never got the chance to fully enjoy his childhood or interact with others his age thanks to the pressures put on him by The Resistance.
Feeding politics into a young boy's mind... It never did sit well with him.
"If only you can see how happy he is right now, Cecilia." Charles said underneath his breath.
Once the festivities died down after a few hours, Scylla informed Alfred and the other patrons that she had to return home because of a strict curfew. Alfred thought it was strange how careful she was about her appearance and how cautious she became of her surroundings before she left the basement. For someone of her standing, he would have thought that she would have no worries in the world. Well, besides from the illicit musical contents in her bag. But he highly doubted that she'd be stopped and searched.
Once Charles returned after escorting Scylla out of the pub, he approached Alfred and patted him on the head.
"Once you're ready, I think we should return back to your home. Your father's surely worried sick about you."
Alfred's brow furrowed at the suggestion.
"That traitor is dead to me."
Charles shook his head and looked at Alfred with a gentle expression.
"Don't be like that Alfred. He's your father. You know he cares about you. You may not understand or respect his choices now, but you must try to understand one another. Everything he does is out of consideration for you."
Charles sighed and took a seat on the stool next to Alfred.
"I've never seen that man cry until you were born. You are the greatest gift ever given to him. He may not live up to what you expect from him, but I know every decision he makes has been carefully thought out. Talk to him. Maybe now, you are ready."
It's true. Alfred had always looked up to his father for being the protector that he's always been. Which made his father's decision to sell their comrades out even more baffling. Other than that, the last sentence that came out of Charles' mouth also seemed out of place causing Alfred to look at him cynically.
"Ready for what?"
Charles shrugged.
"Who knows. All I know is that your parents had plans for you. Plans involving the war."
Alfred's interest was piqued. He desperately wanted to do all that he could to help with the war efforts against the Votyasch Empire, but his parents have never let him do any impactful work. Reluctantly, he gave in and agreed to return home in the morning much to Charles' relief.
After waking up the next morning, Charles walked with Alfred back to his home. Perhaps, it was because it was early but the walk was surprisingly tranquil. Although imperial soldiers still patrolled the streets, it seemed far more lax than it usually does.
"Do you really think my father will be okay seeing me again?"
Alfred seemed nervous as they neared the street to his home. Charles softly smiled knowing that Alfred still cared enough about his father to ask such a question.
"Of course, the real question is are you okay with seeing him again."
Alfred nodded.
"If he has a plan after everything he did, I need to hear it."
Alfred's statement seemed callous and straight to the point. But Charles could tell from the way Alfred fidgeted with his hands that he also wished to see his father even if he did not forgive him.
Unfortunately, their tranquil walk would come to a screeching halt as Charles and Alfred discovered the horror in front of them as they turned the corner.
Alfred's house had been completely demolished with the contents within it now turned into rubble or ash. Alfred mutters a single cry of disbelief before rushing into the rubble to salvage any pictures or keepsakes of his family he could find while Charles stumbled in after him, inspecting the debris for any signs of Alfred's dad. Eventually, Alfred succumbed to his dismay as he fell back on his knees after finding nothing but dust and ash. Charles quickly attended to Alfred, embracing him.
"I'm sorry, Alfred... I'm so sorry..."
Alfred felt his breath quickening as the anxiety started to invade him. However, he felt his senses rush back to his body as he was called for by a loud, booming voice behind him.